


To See Them Resplendent

by Nokomis



Series: Lyn-Z in the Zones [2]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Killjoys, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. D asks Lyn-Z to watch over Party Poison and Fun Ghoul after Motorbaby gets taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To See Them Resplendent

Lyn-Z didn’t intend to get involved with the Killjoys.

Steve knew them, but Steve knew everyone. Lyn-Z was happy enough sticking to the circle of acquaintances she had slowly managed to amass in the Zones. She had made a comfortable niche for herself – making fliers and ads for the carbons and goods she needed, and when necessary going out on more dangerous missions. She’d souped up the bike she’d stolen on her way out of Battery City – there were manuals and spare parts all over the body shop she’d settled in – and she felt comfortable in her skin.

The thing about the Zones was that nobody stayed comfortable for long.

*

Steve showed up himself to ask her.

Usually he sent Show Pony with assignments, mostly, he claimed, because he didn’t want to hear Lyn-Z bitch about it. When he showed up at her door, dusty and tired-looking, she knew it was something big.

“We’ve had a loss,” he began, and Lyn-Z’s gut wrenched as she thought of everyone who might have been ghosted. Morning Wood with her bright smiles, Full Effect and his veritable black market of smuggled goods, even Bart Skull with his ugly customized t-shirts. Steve accepted the water she poured and continued, “They got Motorbaby. She’s back in Battery City, and it’s all I can do to keep the Killjoys from racing in after her.”

“Fuck,” Lyn-Z said. Somehow that seemed worse; Motorbaby was so young and so important. “They can’t do that. It’d be suicide for them and her both.”

Steve sighed. “I know. And Korse knows where their hide-out is, so I need a safe house.”

Lyn-Z didn’t have to hear him ask. “All of ‘em?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got a mission for Jet Star and Kobra Kid out in Zone 3. It should be safe enough there. But I need to stash Party Poison and Fun Ghoul somewhere out of the way with someone I can trust. Especially right now.”

“Why split them up?” Lyn-Z asked, but she realized the answer before Steve could answer. “Oh. To keep them from going.”

Steve nodded. “Party Poison won’t go without Kobra Kid. I hate to manipulate them like this, but desperate times.” Steve looked older than she’d ever seen him. “It won’t be long, just ‘til we can get a plan worked out.”

Lyn-Z knew what she had to do. “And the only association I have with the Killjoys is you. The Dracs don’t even bother to patrol out here but once every couple weeks.”

Steve fist-bumped her. “Right on, Zoid.”

*

She already knew what the Killjoys looked like from the wanted posters that S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W plastered everywhere, but it was still a shock to see them in person. The black-and-white posters failed to capture any of their vitality, and Lyn-Z had to take a deep breath to steady herself before going outside to greet Fun Ghoul and Party Poison.

From a distance, they’d just looked like bright smears of color against the desert background. Up close, they looked shattered.

Fun Ghoul gave her a half-smile and a quick handshake, and Party Poison just said, “Thanks for letting us crash here,” before unlocking the trunk and pulling out a bag. There were scattered weapons and books and clothes filling the trunk, and Lyn-Z tried her best not to stare too hard.

“No problem,” she said. “Knock on wood.”

She got weak smiles from them both as she led them inside. 

“I usually sleep in the RV,” she said, “but there’s a killer wasp nest in it that I haven’t managed to defeat, so we’ll be staying in the shop.”

They nodded. Neither looked particularly interested in where they were going to be sleeping.

She opened the bay doors of the shop to let Party Poison park the Trans Am inside. It was too recognizable to leave it out in the open. After she pulled the bay door down, the Killjoys seemed to relax.

Of course. They were wanted fugitives. They wouldn’t feel comfortable out in the open. 

They were quiet as she served them dinner and showed them the couch and the bench seat from an old pick-up that she’d set folded blankets on in preparation for their arrival. Their silence was uncomfortable; even she could tell it wasn’t how things usually were between them.

“Well, good night,” she awkwardly said as she paused in the doorway, preparing to spend the night in what had once been the manager’s office. There was still a faded, ripped Hooters calendar hanging on the wall. She’d chosen it for her sleeping quarters because it was centrally located and she could hear if anyone was approaching the station without being seen by anyone peering in the windows.

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop. She was used to being on her own, and noises in the night usually meant she needed to get the hell out of dodge, not respectfully avert her attention. 

She was already settled into her bed, ready to fall asleep when she heard the Killjoys start to speak to each other.

“Frank, we’re gonna find her,” Party Poison said. His voice was quiet, but it echoed through the empty shop. Lyn-Z’s eyes popped open. Fun Ghoul wasn’t supposed to have a _name_. Names made people human, made them vulnerable. That’s why they took monikers.

“What if we can’t?” said Frank… Fun Ghoul… No, he was now firmly Frank in her mind. He sounded heartbroken.

“We will,” Party Poison said firmly. “It’s the only option. We’ll die trying if we have to.”

It had seemed natural enough to call him Party Poison earlier, but now that Frank had a name, it seemed faintly ridiculous. She wondered if they felt awkward only knowing her as Zoid. 

Frank’s reply was muffled, like he and Party Poison were huddled in close. Lyn-Z squeezed her eyes shut. She really shouldn’t listen in, not with how intimate the conversation was. 

The rest of their conversation was muffled and quiet, and Lyn-Z was thankful. She wasn’t sure how she would face them in the morning if she overheard anything else.

*

Lyn-Z woke to the sound of people moving inside her house. 

She instinctively rolled over, hand clutched around the ray gun she kept under her pillow, before she remembered her houseguests. 

Party Poison was digging through her cabinet; Frank was sitting at the table listing off things he wanted to eat. “Anything that isn’t dog food, really,” he concluded.

“All I can find is motor oil,” Party Poison grumbled.

“That’s because the food’s downstairs,” Lyn-Z said, leaning against the doorframe. “I keep it there so anyone who searches the place doesn’t realize I live here.”

She got two respectful looks, and she rolled her eyes at them. “Come on, boys, we all have our tricks to survive out here.”

Frank cracked a smile. “That’s a good one! Is that why it looks like the place has been ransacked?”

Lyn-Z almost decided to pretend she was that dedicated to her cover, but she was an awful liar. “No, I’m just a slob. It helps, though! Dracs have never looked too close.”

“You got stuff that they’d take you in for?” Party Poison asked.

“Don’t we all?” Lyn-Z said, then took a deep breath. She never took people downstairs. It was her sanctuary. But she knew the position the Killjoys were in, and she decided to give them something to make trusting her a little easier. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

*

The basement had come as a pleasant surprise when Lyn-Z had first set up shop here. There was a trapdoor leading to rickety stairs, and at the bottom was a good-sized room with a dirt floor and decent light.

She’d made it into an art studio and a refuge and allowing two virtual strangers into it left her feeling exposed. Her sketches and collages covered the walls and the large worktable in the center of the room.

Frank let out a low hiss as soon as she turned on the light. “Oh man,” he said. “This is awesome.”

“Is this all yours?” Party Poison asked. 

Lyn-Z nodded. “Some of it’s freelance work, but I’ve been working on a new set of collages I’m thinking about setting up outside Battery City.”

“You put art up around the city?” Frank asked.

“It’s kind of how I got started,” she explained. “I left a bunch of art behind me when I left the city, and I try to keep going back to do it. I remember what it was like there and I want to try to inspire people to _think_.”

“You left Battery City?” Party Poison said. “How did you…”

“Yeah,” Frank interrupted, eyes bright. “How did you get out?”

Lyn-Z suddenly remembered the conversation she’d overheard. She bit her lip. “I was a nobody. It’s easy for a nobody to get out. Getting in’s a whole different story.”

“But you know the city,” Party Poison said. She didn’t like the speculative look he was giving her.

She shook her head. “I can’t help you.”

Frank furrowed his brow at Party Poison, who shook his head slightly. Party Poison was the clear leader, and the way they communicated easily wordlessly reminded her of her own closeness to Steve. She had a feeling that he was already trying to figure out how to change her mind, and she steeled herself. 

Frank broke the awkward silence by asking her where she got supplies. As she answered, she already knew they were already figuring out how to get information out of her.

She watched her words carefully.

*

She didn’t like leaving the Killjoys alone, but Show Pony showed up early, beaming. “Roll-over on Route Guano.”

“Supply truck?” she asked. Party Poison was watching avidly, like he was analyzing her every move. She refused to let it bother her.

Show Pony nodded. “We’ve only got a small window of opportunity. You gotta get in there.”

Lyn-Z grabbed her yellow leather jacket and ray gun. “I’m on it.”

One of the trickiest things about picking over supply trucks was knowing what you could and couldn’t get away with. BL/ind was infamous for tracking every unit that was shipped in, often with near-invisible security tags. Take something that was bugged and BL/ind could track where you’d been and where you were, and most people out in the Zones wouldn’t touch something that chancy.

“You’re going to risk that?” Frank asked.

Lyn-Z nodded and Show Pony snorted. “Zoid here’s our picking expert. She can find the tracking tags on things quicker than anyone.”

“Practice,” she said. 

Party Poison suddenly said, “Orange!”

“What?” Frank looked at him like he was crazy.

“You’re the one who sent us an orange once,” Party Poison said. “Remember? Full Effect said that Zoid sent it to us.”

Lyn-Z remembered the orange – she’d come across three, plump and juicy, in a Drac convoy, wrapped up in cellophane. Obviously meant to be a gift for someone high up in the food chain, and she hadn’t felt a bit of remorse taking all three. She’d eaten one herself, licking the juice off her fingers and had given another to Steve, and had nearly eaten the third one too before sending it off to the Killjoys on a whim.

“Oh my god,” Frank said, suddenly looking at her like she was a deity made flesh. “You are my favorite person forever.”

She shrugged. “You guys do so much for everyone out here. Gotta show some respect for that.” She grinned. “I had a whole one to myself. Don’t thank me too much.”

“It was the best orange ever,” Party Poison said dreamily. “We shared the sections, remember? And Jet Star even used the zest to make those muffin-y things.”

“It was the best breakfast we had last year,” Frank agreed. 

“I gotta jet,” Lyn-Z said, thinking of all the possibilities the overturned supply truck offered. “Maybe we’ll eat good tonight.”

*

The supply truck had a better yield than Lyn-Z ever would have dreamed. It was obviously meant for the higher-ups at BL/ind, and Lyn-Z scavenged enough that she didn’t feel guilty taking an entire sackful for herself.

The Killjoys both pointed ray guns at her when she opened the door, and she just beamed at them. “You are not going to believe this,” she said, setting the sack down on the table.

“Is it an orange?” Party Poison said hopefully.

“Better,” Lyn-Z said, pulling out a bag of coffee beans.

“Oh my god,” Frank said. 

Party Poison just stared like she had pulled a bar of gold out of the bag. “Coffee,” he said.

“Apparently Columbia’s still there,” Lyn-Z said cheerfully. “And that’s not all!”

She pulled out the rest of her loot: canned vegetables, boxes of pasta and, most importantly, a large heart-shaped box of chocolates.

“I thought these didn’t exist anymore,” she said, smiling at the chocolates. “It’s so whimsical.”

Party Poison trailed a finger along the plastic edge of the box. “I thought BL/ind was against waste.”

“Apparently that doesn’t apply to everyone,” Frank said, sounding unsurprised. 

“But thanks to them, we’re eating good tonight,” Lyn-Z said. She got two smiles in response. 

She was pretty sure they were genuine. 

 

*

“Why does Dr. D trust you so much?” 

Lyn-Z looked up from the pile of paper she was carefully cutting into half-moons. Party Poison was sketching and Frank was staring at her. She shrugged.

“I wondered that too,” Party Poison added. “As soon as we asked him for a safe place he said he had someone he trusted with his life, but he’s never mentioned you before.”

Lyn-Z raised an eyebrow. “People don’t talk about a lot of things out here. It’s hardly surprising that he wouldn’t mention an old friend.”

“How old?” Frank asked. 

“It’s not polite to ask a girl her age,” Lyn-Z teased.

Frank stuck out his tongue. “You know what I meant.”

“We went to school together,” Lyn-Z admitted softly. Steve probably wouldn’t like her bringing up his past, but there was really no harm in it, especially since the Killjoys already knew so much.

She got two surprised looks. “You knew each other before everything?”

She laughed. “Is that so surprising? People didn’t just spontaneously form when shit went down. We all were somebody back then, too.”

Except Motorbaby and the other kids who only knew this terrible, fucked-up world, but she didn’t dare bring that up now. Not when the boys were doing okay.

It surprised her that she already cared enough about them that she wanted them to be okay.

Party Poison smiled. “I’m used to me and Mikey being the only ones who knew each other before. Odds are against it.”

“Mikey?” Lyn-Z asked. There was a comfortable ease to the way Party Poison said ‘me and Mikey’ that meant it was probably an accident, and she shouldn’t pry, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t shared anything about herself.

Party Poison paused, glancing at Frank, then admitted, “My brother. We stuck out everything together. I wouldn’t be here without him.”

One of the other Killjoys, then. Lyn-Z said, “I’m glad you have that. Dr. D was one of my closest friends before, and without him I was lost. Having people you trust is important.”

The words seem weak to describe how important something like friendship was out here, but they both nodded anyway. She stuck out her hand because, what the hell. “I’m Lyn-Z,” she said.

To her surprise it was Party Poison who took her hand first, shaking firmly and saying, “Gerard.”

Frank’s eyes went a little wide. Lyn-Z wasn’t even sure if Steve knew their real names. She didn’t let go immediately after the handshake, but neither did Gerard. It was a moment that should feel awkward but instead felt strangely comforting.

Finally their hands slid apart, leaving Lyn-Z feeling just a little colder, which passed when Frank took her hand and shared his own name.

Real names were rare in the Zones. It bespoke of a level of trust that they probably hadn’t actually reached, but was necessary because of the situation they were in. Frank and Gerard’s lives were in her hands, and she was risking her own by helping them.

It was worth it.

*

“You gotta tell us about Battery City,” Frank said quietly.

Gerard was in the basement sketching while she and Frank were attempting to rebuild the Trans Am’s carburetor. She put her piece of the carburetor down with a clank. “If I do that, you’ll try to go there.”

“We’re going to try anyway,” Frank said candidly. “If you tell us it won’t be in vain.”

“It’s not that simple,” Lyn-Z said. “I wasn’t lying before. Getting out is a helluva lot easier than getting in.”

“You have to know something.” Frank sounded desperate. “They’ve got her, Lyn-Z. God knows what they’re doing to her. We have to get her back.”

Lyn-Z thought of the quiet, sad murmurs she heard every night, of how tired and old Frank and Gerard looked, of what she would do in their situation. 

“The tunnel,” she finally said, hoping she wasn’t sending them to their deaths. “The tunnel’s the weak spot.”

She knew they couldn’t go, not yet, not while they were separated. But as soon as they were back together…

Whatever happened would be on her conscience.


End file.
